


Of What I Really Am

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, Drugs, Friends With Benefits, Hand Job, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I find my old roommate at a party in '98 during one of the darkest times of his life...<br/>Written for Porn Battle - prompt "Sobriety"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of What I Really Am

I find him in the darkened bedroom of someone's guest house at a party in Beverly the summer of 98, stretched out on a bed that's set into a window alcove. He's propped up on one elbow to look outside at the yard - the grounds, I should say - and hints of light flicker against his face from the pool outside. I perch next to him, drawing his attention with soft words. "Hey, Bobby."

Robert's gaze turns to me languidly, the corners of a generous mouth turning upwards. "Hey, beautiful."

He hasn't been drinking, hasn't been at the party, but I can tell from the look in his eyes and the flush to his skin that he's high as a kite. It completely sobers me up despite the two beers that I've had already. It's been a long time, I have to admit, since those first years together in the California heat. Bobby was always a little bit buzzed on something, like most of us were back then, but seeing him now, I have to admit, scares me. "It's been a while."

"Yeah..." even his voice is languid, warm and relaxed, and it brings to mind long buried memories of tangled limbs and twisted sheets. "You've been off playing cowboy. How's that working out for you?"

I give a soft laugh. Things aren't ideal for either of us right now. I've done so many movies in the past year that I've hardly had time to breathe, but it hasn't been the re-entry into Hollywood that I'd hoped it would be. Even Proyas' movie, where I fell in love with the dark romance of the script on first reading, did poorly in the theatres. "Well, I'm back doing movies now. How are things with you?"

Robert glances away, a flicker of shadow crossing his face in the dim light that comes in from outside. Then he sits up fluidly, shifting so he's sitting diagonally from me on the bed, cross legged, his thigh pressed against mine. He catches my gaze, eyes serious and all pupil. "Do you think I can do it, Kiefer?"

"Of course you can," I reply, without hesitation, knowing the battles he's faced with his addictions. "You've always been able to do anything you want, anything you put your mind to. It's the best part about you."

His lips twitch, like he's trying to smile but can't. "I don't know if I want to. That's the problem. I've been like this for so long that I'm not sure I know how to be any other way."

The stories I've heard, whether it be the whispers of friends or the exaggeration of the media, scare me. Admittedly, it's why I came here tonight when I heard he might be attending. I decide not to answer his statement in words, but reach up gently to let my fingers cup his jaw, stroking slowly over the roughness of stubble. Then I lean in to press my lips to his, slow and unassuming, and rest my forehead against his gently, letting him make the next move.

Robert sighs, and it's almost heartbreaking. His hand moves to rest on my thigh, stroking slowly up and down the top of my jeans. "You always had this unquenchable faith in me."

"I still do," I reply softly, letting my fingers move to smooth through his hair. "You make good things happen, Bobby."

"Used to," he sighs. "Kiefer, I don't think I have any more luck left to give you."

"Then let me give you some back," I murmur, and lean in to kiss him again.

Robert comes alive under this kiss, surging towards me with a low groan, sudden enough that I don't anticipate it and our teeth clack together. But I can hardly think to care about that, not when his hands are in my hair, pulling me close and claiming my mouth with blistering heat. This I hadn't expected, but I'd wanted it. I'd never really stopped wanting it. He has me pushed back down onto the bed before I know it, and I catch his hips to pull him down against me, wrapping a thigh around one of his to hold me in place.

Robert's hands rake hard down my sides, his full weight resting against me as we kiss deep and frantic, nipping at lips and tongues. His shoulders are firm and toned under my hands, his body an intoxicating weight against mine, though one I rarely indulge in anymore. I rock my hips up against his without even thinking about it, feeling a shudder of arousal run through me. He hasn't changed in this, at least - his passion, his strength, his pursuit of pleasure. Bobby had always been so bright and alive and beautiful when we were younger, and I'd gained so much from that. He gave me kind of self confidence and strength that I needed to really make it, and I'm not sure I would have ever found it if it hadn't been for him. This is why it's so hard for me to see him struggling with himself and not to be able to do anything for him.

But I can give him this.

I tug his t-shirt up over his head and fill my hands with the warmth of his skin, his well muscled shoulders and back. I draw my nails down his spine, which still makes him shudder the way it used to. "Fuck, Kiefer..." his voice is a low growl, lips breaking from my mouth to kiss along my jaw hungrily, to suck and lick and bite at my throat. He's become far more rough in the time we've been apart, but the painful intensity of his mouth on my skin is so erotically vivid that I can't bring myself to stop him. It's still real, it reminds me. We're still here, we're still alive.

He's worked my shirt up around my armpits with restless, groping hands, and pulls back just long enough to yank it over my head before falling to devour my chest with his mouth. It's going to bruise - I'm going to have Robert's teeth marks tattooed in red and purple on my shoulders and collarbone for weeks, and I find that I like the idea just as much as the sensation. I run my hands hungrily over his back, through his hair, writhing and grinding up against him in a silent plea for more. Whatever they say about drugs and sex drive has to be the biggest load of bullshit, because Robert's even harder than me, hot and firm through his jeans as he grinds against my thigh.

When he bites down hard at my nipple I have to choke back a cry of pleasure - the guest house isn't really a part of the gathering, but I can't take any chances. Patience spent, I pull him back up to catch his mouth again and writhe and shift against him until he's on his side next to me. Then I can fumble the buttons of his jeans undone, stroke him through the thin cotton that stretches taut over his cock. "Want me to suck you?"

Surprisingly, Robert gives a quick shake of his head before claiming my mouth again, hard and demanding. His fingers yank at the button and fly on my jeans, tugging impatiently at the fabric until his fist is wrapped around my erection. The familiarity of it makes me groan, and I rock up into his fingers - rough, hot, tight - pulling his boxers out of the way and cupping the head of his cock in the palm of my hand, letting the proof of his arousal slick over my skin. I start to stroke him, long and slow, twisting my fingers a little as my hand glides back up to let my thumb press against the sensitive underside of the head, making him shudder against me. His kisses break into shivering pecks, into teasing flicks of his tongue between little gasping, desperate moans, rocking up into my touch as I am to his.

This is familiar. This is hot California evenings and cold beer, and quick and dirty hand jobs for good luck before running out the door for an audition. This is fucking, slow and hard and intense to work off stress when the other roommates are out. Robert's hand on my cock pulls the most wanton, throaty groans from my lips as much as I try to hold back. Somehow we always manage to find the rhythm in this despite overwhelming need, despite his hard thrusts up into my fingers and the way that I writhe against him. His fingers are slick from the moisture that seeps from the head of my cock, gliding faster over my skin, and I clench hard at his shoulder with my free hand, trying to stem back the insistent build of pleasure. I need this to last, just a little bit longer. I bite down hard at my lower lip and bury my face in his shoulder, pressing my mouth to sweat-streaked skin and breathing deep of the warm, musky scent that's uniquely him. But it only serves to stoke the blaze of pleasure, and I thrust hard into his hand, erratic and desperate, as passion peaks. I can't hold back my shuddering cry of relief, bucking up into the tight wet heat of his fingers as I come, clenching at his back hard enough to almost break skin.

"Kiefer - !" Robert's gasp is almost helpless. I tighten my fingers around him just a little, working his cock faster as I try to catch my breath, body tingling with the aftershocks of climax.

"Please," I whisper, and then lean in to bite hard at the crook of his neck. His hips jerk up into my grasp with a hoarse cry, and I draw him through his climax with even strokes, slicking spurt after spurt of his seed down over his cock with my fingers.

For a long moment, neither of us make to move or relinquish our hold on the other's body. I try to memorize the feeling of him against me, his warmth and scent and the sound of his breath as he calms. Finally I shift, just enough to brush his lips with mine. "You know you can always come see me if you need me, right? Or even just call me. Anything you need."

"I know," he replies, giving me a sad little smile. "I don't want you messed up in all of this, though. And... I have to take care of this by myself. For me."

I manage to nod, swallowing down the sense of despair that washes through me at his words. "Yeah."

"Kiefer..." he pauses, as if seeming to sense my emotion, then presses a warm kiss to my mouth, tender and lingering. "Thank you. It means a lot. I'll call."  
~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SO SORRY. ;_; I don't know/own/pimp the actors, this isn't true or a real representation of them, none of it ever happened, it's completely made up in my fictional head and I'm definitely not making any money from my sins.  
> Er, apart from the fact that Kiefer and RDJ were actually roomies for about 3 years very very early in Kiefer's career - I think this was in The Party House that a lot of people lived in. Oh, and Dark City not doing well in theatres. That's true too. ;_;


End file.
